Unexpected
by Fanservice-911
Summary: When I opened the door of my house, I expected to see my living room. I expected the couch, the coffee table, the television, the rug, the McDonald's bag I had forgotten to throw away. What I had not expected was England. UKUS  in that order , lemon.


When I opened the door of my house, I expected to see my living room. I expected the couch, the coffee table, the television, the rug, the McDonald's bag I had forgotten to throw away. What I had not expected was England.

I took off my glasses and cleaned them quickly before putting them back on. Yep, my sight was working perfectly. What was _not_ working was logic. Space. Time. Physics. Something must be wrong with the universe. Someone must be messing with the laws of nature.

Yes, England was in my living room. On the rug. Wearing my bomber jacket.

And no pants.

"Ah..." His back was to me, but I could still tell it was him. He was panting and mumbling things under his breath. He probably didn't realize I was standing right there. "A-Ah... 'Merica..."

Was that my name he just said? _My_ name?

No.

No. Fucking. _Way_.

England was in my living room... Wearing my jacket... Muttering my name... And...

Oh God, I didn't even want to think about what he was doing.

I was too stunned to think properly. I'm pretty sure I was blushing an unhealthy amount and I was vaguely aware of how tight my pants were, but my mind was mostly a blank slate.

"E-England?" I croaked. Shit, I didn't want my voice to sound like that! Argh, I sounded so... So... Deprived, or something!

His head whipped around to face me. His eyes were glazed with lust and he had this really creepy grin on his face. "A-me-ri-ca," he said in a sing-song voice. He sounded drunk. He stood up shakily and faced me. I quickly covered my eyes. He wasn't wearing underwear...

Definitely drunk.

I heard footsteps. _Shit._ He was walking right to me. I fought my sudden urge to move my hand. Why the hell would I want to see England naked? That was _not_ on my bucket list.

A hand on my cheek made me wince. I screamed every profanity I could think of in my head. I did not want to be in this situation. Not one fucking bit.

I heard a giggle. Not a good sign. England _never_ giggled... Except when he was drunk and had something creepy in mind. Which just so happened to be the case.

"I've been waiting for you," he sang softly. His voice sent a shiver up my spine. "What took you so long?"

"England," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking, "what the hell are you doing in my house?"

"I was waiting for you!" His hand was playing with my hair now. I forced my body not to move.

"Get out," I replied.

"Aaaw, you're no fun!" I could practically hear the pout in his voice. How strange. "Oh! What's this?" He giggled again. "America, your hair is standing up!"

Okay, scratch that, I was screaming curses humanity hadn't even invented yet in my head.

Guessing from the way England's hand was moving up to the top of my head, he had noticed Nantucket. Yes, as embarrassing as it is to admit, that little piece of hair that sticks up in the front? Yeah, that's my erogenous zone. Judging from how my lower regions were reacting, Nantucket must have been sticking up straighter tha-

"F-Fuck!" I gasped. I couldn't help it - he touched it! He _touched Nantucket!_

"Hm? What's this?" His voice was mocking as he poked Nantucket again. I barely suppressed a very unmanly squeak. "Oh, is this your _special_ place?"

"Shut up, Engl- Ah...!" He was stroking it, now! I could feel his fingers moving up and down, and let me tell you, it was quite disturbing. It did not, in any way, feel good. At all. I swear!

My heart was pounding and I couldn't help but let out a tiny moan as he wrapped Nantucket around his finger and fiddled with it further.

"Cute," he whispered. He put his other hand on the top of my head and forced me down with surprising strength, making my knees buckle.

"W-What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked, mentally cursing that stutter... Among other things.

I never got an answer - not a verbal one, anyway. Instead, I got England's mouth on Nantucket. I drew a sharp intake of breath as he began sucking on it, his tongue hitting it from every side.

When he was bored of that, he decided to go a step further.

My eyes shot open and I yelped as he gave Nantucket a sharp bite. Yes, that damn limey bit me.

"England!" I screeched. He just laughed at me and continued sucking my hair off. I, on the other hand, was being mentally scarred by the image in front of me - not that I wasn't being scarred by this experience already.

_I will never unsee this,_ was all I could think.

England was wearing one of his boring green shirts, but what really ticked me off was that he also happened to be sporting my bomber jacket. What made me want to go crawl in a hole and die was the fact that he was also missing his pants. And underwear.

I found myself staring at his cock. I couldn't help it! First of all, it was kind of right in front of my face. Second, it was seriously huge and there was a fair amount of pre-cum dri- God, I hated myself for just trying to describe it in my head!

Apparently, England noticed. He grinned and said silkily, "Like what you see?"

"N-No," I said, not sounding nearly as confident as I would have liked. "I'm way bigger than that!" I laughed, but it came out awkward. His grin only widened.

"I'd like to see that," he said seductively. Before I knew what was happening, I was on my back and my pants on the other side of the room. My boxers were the next to go, leaving my "problem" exposed.

"Wow, it _is_ big!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. I didn't like that look.

"England, don't you dare," I warned.

between his fingers, not allowing me to answer. I wasn't even sure what I would have said, anyway.

"I think I prefer you like this," he murmured, his eyes darting up and down, probably mentally groping me. "I like you submissive." Still rubbing Nantucket, he reached down and started stroking my cock. I flinched, forcing down the cry of delight I had been about to utter.

"Oh please." I could barely hear England over my ridiculous heartbeat. "Come now, I know you're enjoying this. Why not just admit it?"

"I'm n-not fucking enjoying this," I hissed. He gave my cock a squeeze and I bit my lip.

"You really shouldn't lie, America," he scolded. "It will only give you trouble." He gave Nantucket a tug, forcing me to sit up on my elbows. This action confused me until he lowered his head down south.

Oh. He couldn't reach before.

He stuck out his tongue and just barely touched the tip to the head of my length. He circled it around a bit, but didn't do much more than that.

It was fucking infuriating.

"Damn it, England!" I shouted. "If you're gonna do something, just do it!"

He gave me a devious look. "I thought you didn't want me to do this at all."

"I don't!" I said quickly, flushing even more than I already was. "Just... D-Don't do things halfway!" England shrugged, smirking, and swallowed up my entire cock in one go.

Un-fucking-believable.

I gasped at the heat, closing my eyes and groaning softly. He started humming, sending me waves of pleasure in the form of vibrations. He hadn't neglected Nantucket, either - he was still rubbing it hard. How the hell had he become so good at multi-tasking?

He finally pulled away, eliciting a small whine from me. He smirked at my response. "Don't worry, it's just for a moment," he assured. He reached for his own length and efficiently wiped all his pre-cum onto his fingers. The pull seemed to great for him, as he gave himself a quick rub before returning to me.

He took my cock back in his mouth and with his right hand - still somehow fiddling with Nantucket with his left and sucking me off with his mouth - stuck a finger into my entrance. I gasped sharply, my eyes widening.

Without wasting another moment, he inserted two more fingers, quickly followed by a fourth. I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip and fighting tears. He wasn't even bothering to stretch me a little before shoving his fingers in my a-

"England!" I shouted, unable to hold back my tears. He had stuck his fifth finger in and was finally scissoring. Waves of pain shot up my spine and my mouth fell open in a silent scream. He just rolled his eyes at me, unable to reply due to the rather, er, large object in his mouth.

He began thrusting his fingers in and out, slowly at first, but with increasing speed. Oh God, I can't describe the feeling. It was incredible, to say the least.

And then he hit that spot.

"Fuck!" I gasped, my eyes practically bugging out of my head. My back arched and my head flew back.

Bad move.

England was still playing with Nantucket, so the force made him accidentally wrench it. If it hadn't been such an important part of my body - an island, no less - it would have been out of my head.

Naturally, that huge jolt of erotic pleasure that suddenly hit me all at once was more than enough to send me over the edge.

I came right in England's mouth with an especially loud moan, and I'd be damned if I said it didn't feel great.

I guess he must have been expecting that sort of reaction or something, because he didn't choke. No, instead he pulled away from my cock and kissed me deeply, forcing me to drink my own cum from his mouth.

I'd be damned if I said that wasn't awesome, either.

I barely noticed, but I'm pretty sure England came while we were kissing. When we finally parted for air, there was cum all over my stomach, my face, and the rug, but I didn't care. I grabbed England and hugged him tightly, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck.

"You're a fucking bastard," I muttered.

"I know," he replied with a smile.

What an unexpected way to spend my evening.

* * *

><p><strong>Based on this nosebleed-worthy picture:<strong> .com/art/Jerking-Off-UsUk-245912858

**Oh, and sorry for riddling this thing with curses. I usually _hate_ cursing, but hey, it's America! And besides, if you're reading something like this, you should be used to curses, anyway.**

**Reviews and critique are highly appreciated! ^^**


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